


Beneath the Waves

by alistairweekend



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Human Wheatley, Mermaid Chell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alistairweekend/pseuds/alistairweekend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An inkling of an AU I've had bouncing around in my head for a while. Wheatley is a member of a crew on a ship and Chell is a mermaid that saves him from drowning during a storm. Possibly to be continued? If people seem to like this. (Also, no romance actually takes place within this drabble, but I categorize it as Chelley because it would definitely turn into that if continued.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Waves

The wind was angry. It howled and whipped every which way in its rage, riling up the water residing below it in what would have been an awe-inspiring way for any witness... had the witnesses not been in a ship currently atop the waves.

This was not the first storm the ship and its crew had ever been caught in, but that made it no more fun for anyone, especially a particular member who, at that moment, could be seen clutching for dear life to one of the masts with his gangly arms, clearly not trusting the rope tied around his waste to keep him safe. His blond hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead, and his eyes, behind a pair of spectacles, were squeezed shut in terror. _Why did I ever get this job?_ he thought for what must have been the thousandth time.

Wheatley knew fully well why he had gotten this job, but that was beside the point. He vowed that as soon as he set foot on land again ( _if_ he ever did), he was never going to see another sea vessel in his life if he could help it. Even if he couldn’t find another line of work. He would rather be shoveling dung off the street for the rest of his days than risk his life in another one of these bloody storms.

“ _Oi!_ ” a voice shouted over the wind and rain. Somehow Wheatley knew it was aimed at him. He dared to crack open his eyes, though it didn’t do him much good with how fogged up his glasses were. A blurry figure approached and revealed itself to be the source of the voice. “Stop cowering and get to work! We’re _all_ gonna die if people aren’t doing their part!”

When Wheatley didn’t move immediately, he was given a shove by the accuser, forcing him away from his pillar of safety. “On with it!”

He didn’t bother to point out that he was little use to anyone without being able to see properly. Wheatley obliged to the other crew member’s demands to move, stumbling forward towards no goal in particular other than not being yelled at again. Maybe if he just bumbled around from railing to railing, no one would question him for the rest of the storm. And then he could curl up on his uncomfortable, damp bed and unsuccessfully try to sleep and pray that there were job openings in the next port.

The plan seemed to be going well at first. As long as he kept his mouth shut and looked somewhat purposeful as he moved, no one called Wheatley out on not working. Moving was suboptimal to hugging the mast, but it was better than doing what he was technically supposed to be doing and _climbing_ it.

Alas, while none of the crew caught him, something else (perhaps karma? fate? irony?) did. As he was heading towards the railing at one point, the ship made an unexpected and violent pitch, making all of Wheatley’s worst fears come true as he was tossed over the side and his safety rope snapped. The water was so cold and the impact so hard, Wheatley immediately blacked out upon contact with the ocean’s surface.

When he came to, he could feel that he was underwater. In an awful call on his instinct’s part, he gasped, drawing in nothing but a lungful of salty water, which sent him into a full-on panic. He trashed his arms and legs in a desperate attempt to swim, body and mind screaming for air, but his heavy naval jacket and the layers underneath were doing him no favors. Just when he felt his consciousness slipping again, something touched him.

Normally, Wheatley would have assumed the worst -- a shark, or at the very least something unpleasant that wanted to eat him for dinner, had found him. But his mind thought none of these things. All the terror vanished from his head in an instant, and, suddenly... he could breathe?

Only now just realizing that his eyes had been shut the whole time, Wheatley cautiously opened them. The saltwater stung at first, but after a few blinks they adjusted. Incredibly, his glasses had remained on his face, which allowed him to see at least relatively clearly.

A pair of eyes, piercing and grey, gazed right back into his. With an exclamation of alarm, muffled by the water, Wheatley flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to propel himself away from the unfamiliar person, but they were still touching -- or rather, grabbing -- him by one of his arms, keeping him more or less in place. The person repositioned him so they were looking directly at each other again, and Wheatley was able to see more of them. What greeted his vision caused him to question if he was actually alive anymore.

The person was... well, she was a mermaid. That was the only possible explanation.

Her grey eyes were stark compared to the rest of her. Black hair billowed around her head, framing her face, which was the most human part about her. Her tawny skin covered everything until the top of her chest, where glimmering, deep orange scales took over. Wheatley was almost scared to look down any farther, but curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t even say he was surprised when he saw her tail. She was beautiful in an utterly mystical way, but Wheatley was a bit too deep in shock to appreciate that at the moment.

The mermaid was looking back at Wheatley with almost equal curiosity, though she seemed guarded at the same time. After several moments dragged on, the two of them simply staring at one another, the mermaid finally broke her gaze away. She glanced upwards, then back at Wheatley. A silent inquiry.

Wheatley was breathing, but, aside from attributing the miracle to the mermaid, he had no idea how, and also had no clue if it was safe to talk or not. Seeing as the mermaid wasn’t speaking, he decided to not push his luck. He had heard stories of mermaids seducing men, dragging them to their deaths, but seeing as this mermaid had at least so far done the exact opposite, Wheatley decided to put his trust in her. Besides, what else was he to do?

He nodded.

The mermaid shifted her position so she was on the side of Wheatley, her left arm gripping his right. She gave his arm a squeeze -- possibly a “hold on tight”? Which Wheatley readily complied with -- and began swimming upward with powerful strokes of her tail. Even though the water was undoubtedly helping her carry him, she was certainly strong; her arm muscles were lean but solid. Wheatley found himself trying to dedicate as much of her as possible to his memory. This might have all been a dream or some hallucination, but for the time being, her hand on him felt very real.

They broke the surface. Despite having been able to breathe nearly the whole time, Wheatley took a huge gasp of air, if only because it didn’t feel right otherwise. He heard a puff of air and turned to see the mermaid looking rather amused. Her mouth slightly quirked in a half-smile, she kept her grip on him and guided him over to a barrel -- likely having suffered the same fate as Wheatley -- floating in the water. It was still night, but the ocean was now calm, only a slight gust punctuating the breeze to even hint at the weather prior.

Wheatley rubbed his face and glasses against his sleeve, and when he looked up again he saw the ship. “There it is!” he exclaimed, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Sittin’ there like nothing even happened. I wonder if they’re looking for me. Probably not. Hey!” He began to shout, but when he went to raise the arm that wasn’t holding onto the barrel, he realized the mermaid was still holding it. Blinking, he glanced back over to her. As soon as he did, she quickly removed her hand, almost as if embarrassed. She started floating backwards, and Wheatley sensed that she was about to turn and dive back down into the depths.

“W-Wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand with his this time. Her eyes widened slightly, and she stared back at him in surprise. There was a trace of wariness to her eyes too, though.

“Are you real? I mean, yes, of course you’re going to say yes, but... is _this_ real? Everything that just happened? Are you _actually_ a mermaid? And of course you’re going to say yes to that too, because what else would you be... No, what I’m trying to say is, have I just hallucinated this whole thing? Because I would not be surprised if this was just a big dream on my part. Could you... Could you maybe squeeze, or pinch me, or something? So I know it’s not a dream?”

To Wheatley’s surprise, she actually humored his request (albeit with a raised eyebrow), giving him a quick pinch on his arm. He yelped at the sting of pain. “Ow! All right, okay, so this is not a dream. Or if it is, an _incredibly_ realistic one. But something tells me it isn’t. Man alive.” He pushed his hair back from his forehead, his heart fluttering strangely as everything sunk in.

He noticed the mermaid getting ready to leave again. “Wait!” he blurted again. She did pause, but her eyes darted from his face to behind him. When he looked, he saw the ship was drawing closer. They must have seen him, or at least the barrel. Clearly, the mermaid was not wanting to be seen by other humans.

Wheatley wanted to ask her so many questions, but all he could manage was, “Can you tell me your name?”

The mermaid pursed her lips, looking frustrated, then gave a quick, but apologetic, if Wheatley read her facial expression correctly, shake of her head. Before he could speak again, she swiftly retreated under the water. Wheatley felt an odd pang of loss in his heart.

No one seemed particularly relieved to see him again once he was back on board the ship. Had almost anything other than what had just transpired happened to Wheatley, he would have been babbling incessantly about it to anyone and everyone within earshot. But for some reason, he wasn’t keen on sharing this experience with anyone, and not just because they would never believe him.

That night, he lay on his side towards the wall, staring at his right hand and evoking the feeling of the mermaid’s hand holding it. It _had_ been real, Wheatley was more certain of it than ever before. The whole experience felt incomplete, though. Was that it? How was he supposed to go on living his normal life when he had been saved by a _mermaid_?

He knew the chances of him seeing her again were next to impossible. She was one little mermaid in an entire ocean. She wouldn’t -- or maybe couldn’t -- even talk. But Wheatley still felt that there must be something more.

As he finally began to doze off, it occurred to Wheatley that he had never even thanked her.

**Author's Note:**

> I incorporated my own take on mermaids into this -- I've always wanted to write them as, first of all, having no boobs. Fish people wouldn't have boobs because they're not mammals! So the scales start at about the collar bone and go down from there (flat chest), but the arms, neck, and head all have "human" skin. Also, I don't mention it but she has gills on her neck as well as a set of lungs for short-term use on land.


End file.
